in Latin means literally ‘the matter speaks for itself’
in Law, the principle that the occurrence of an accident
implies negligence
as an artist I know that accidents require negligence and
that there would be very little art without it
and that matter speaks for itself, literally.
Be careful what you ask for, you just may get it.
Gays and lesbians clamoring for marriage will end up having divorces –
something new perhaps and rarely any fun;
Fed-up Arabs seeking freedom and dignity may end up having
more repression, poverty and disappointment — that’s a sad one.
Something for nothing, a free lunch and easy money draw many
to learn as in an ancient Chinese proverb:
How do you know it’s good?
How do you know it’s bad?
To paraphrase the Stones:
you can’t always get what you want
but you always get what you need.
Just this past week I was anglin’ on
a saying attributed to Benjamin Franklin:
“Early to bed and early to rise
makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.”
So what ever happened to healthy, wealthy and wise being
sought after like some sort of ultimate prize?
It seems that lately these virtues are cries that
so many people hold as Evil in their eyes.
If you’re healthy, there’s a crowd that’s heard whining and
ascribing your good health to something genetic
while their own habits of sedentry and over-dining have
led them to a condition that’s truly pathetic.
When it comes to wealth the assessment’s even worse; your
frugality and good choices are reviled as a Curse.
And when you try to pass along any of that Wisdom you’re
heard as the purveyor of yet another conundrum.
So instead of health we race toward illness and morbidity and
in place of wealth we get more lack and want.
In lieu of wisdom we’ve accrued ignorance and stupidity. Now
these New “virtues” are all that’s left to vaunt.
broken dishes
broken parts
broken wishes
broken hearts
broken wheels
broken dials
broken deals
broken smiles
everything’s broken
nothin’ ain’t right
everything’s broken
it all seems so trite
broken boxes
broken gloves
broken foxes
broken loves
broken bottles
broken teams
broken models
broken dreams
everything’s broken
nothin’ seems to fit
everything’s broken
nobody gives a shit
broken strings
broken spines
broken rings
broken lines
broken oaths
broken herds
broken growths
broken words
everything’s broken
and it’s nobody’s fault
everything’s broken
we’re all at fault
broken meanings
broken findings
broken leanings
broken bindings
broken combs
broken ropes
broken homes
broken hopes
everything’s broken
nothin’ ain’t right
everything’s broken
it’s not a pretty sight
broken pintos
broken flies
broken windows
broken lies
broken fears
broken lights
broken tears
broken nights
everything’s broken
nothin’ to hold on
everything’s broken
even you are gone
broken cars
broken dives
broken bars
broken lives
broken roads
broken times
broken loads
broken rhymes
everything’s broken
nothin’s even here
everything’s broken
have another beer
broken chills
broken blinds
broken pills
broken minds
broken balls
broken brows
broken walls
broken vows
everything’s broken
everything’s broken
everything
broken
here we go again
here we go again
here we go again
here we go again
again, her we go again
we think we learn
we think we burn
we think we learn when we burn
here we go again
here we go again
here we go again
again, here we go again
we think we earn
we think it’s our turn
our turn to earn and burn
here we go again
here we go again
here we go again
again, here we burn again
here we earn again
here we turn again
but never learn again
here we go again
here we go again
here we go again
again, here we go again
it’s our turn to burn
’cause we always burn
and never learn
here we go again
here we go again
here we go again
again, her we burn again
we are the burners
not the burned
here we go again
here we go again
we think we are the learn-ed
because we’re always the earn-ed
here we go again
burners and burn-ees
learners and learn-ees
her we go again
will someone stop us please
again, here we go again
here we go again
here we go again
here we know — again
here we blow — again
here we go — again
Green, green, green, green, green
Close your eyes, green, green,
I mean it, close your eyes and just see
green — green, green.
Green, green, brown, red green, green
green, brown, brown, red, green green,
evergreen trees, green, green, brown,
green, brown, red, black, white, gray,
green, grey, flowing creek, rushing water,
green, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
green, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
green, green, brown, red, black, white,
green, green, brown, red, black, white,
blue, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
blue, blue, green, green, brown, red, black, white,
blue, green, green, blue, brown, red, blue, white,
pitter, patter, blue, gray, white, gray, green, green
rain sprinkles everything, gray, green, blue, white
green, green, green, green
Breathe deeply, blue-green, blue-green, gray
white now red, orange, yellow, red, red, red,
brown, red, brown, green, red, brown,
as the bear devours your leg, red, red, brown on green.
We are always [green] surprised by what we [green] don’t expect.
So be ready for the [green] uninvited and serve them your best
green, green, red, brown and black, black, always black
– and blue, blue, blue. Boo-hoo. Woo-hoo. Blue, blue.
Green.
Rain again stains the main plain pane
and the sun is fun when you’ve won a ton
But to rut your gut with a slut and a mutt
your butt must be cut with a nut in your hut.
Its crackers for hackers you slackers
when for smackers and stackers you track
And wonder and blunder with hair all asunder
to fund her down under with someone who gunned her.
So pick up a stick and lick on a tick
for thick as its trick is its click on your wick
When the rain is a train with a mighty refrain
some drain must remain inside of your brain.
The son with a gun’s not the one on the run
for the sun on your bun is just for my fun.
Can you follow the words, even though they lack familiar meaning or intent?
Can you let the disconnected images bounce off your mind and make something new?
Can you get beyond the irritation this exercise may bring and get beyond the frustration and loss of focus to just let the words fall like gentle rain on your mind’s inner room?
Read it again and just let it glide until you picture different things that will engender some meaning in their random connections to your inner self.
Listen as the words become pictures and change their meanings and tumble and echo and spark with contrast and confusion into paths of light and sound.
Follow the words and enjoy the bouquet that forms into glyphs and clouds
as you chant and sing without realizing or intended thought.
Can you follow the words, follow the words and swallow the words
and allow the words and tallow the words and mellow the words and — the words… the words, not just words.
So, what about that big blue sky and those withering palms
and how about those wet days and sultry nights aloft
What gives with the shuffling crowds at the Sunday market
and all those guys in shorts on such a cold day in December.
Have you seen the long noses on those fake-oldde street lights
and all those signs on peoples’ lawns selling their bank’s assets
And all those items that have reached their pull dates intact
with the samples and bargain prices when you do the checking yourself?
Its a cold day in the desert and all those crazy ideas are floating around
catching in the skimmer and rolling off the roof into the yard-waste can
While everyone else is shivering and huddling or fighting and killing
and gathering for the armageddon or the put-off elections or some party
To which no one is invited but all must attend in their finest raiments
of blood and fiber, swelling the ranks of the downtrodden and faint
While the rest of us sing on in solitary bliss with the dishwasher growling
as we pass on the rest of yesterday’s lunch to some who really needs it.
So, what about that blue sky — is it lifting you up and filling your sails
or taking you down to the depths of entropy without any help?
This discordant nonsense is all we’ve got — more mundane anarchy:
Its up to us to make it into a song and dance to it lightly, right or wrong.
You may not see this a verse but, who really gives a damn so let it be -
anything and nothing but a scrambled bunch of words to feel and see.
Yeh, what about that big blue sky and those withering palms
can you make it a party — or only something else to make it through.
I’ve always prided myself in my affinity to differing camps
the intellectual and the down and dirty normality
to the enjoyment of drink and drug, the rewarding joy of physical labor
to the engaging discussions of rhyme and reason, of art and taste;
to the endurance of agonizing pain and demoralizing realizations;
to the lofty exhilaration of conceptual discoveries and spiritual quests
along with the defeats and losses that seem to recur without end.
I love the raw expression of joy and anger, of winning and defeat
the stultifying numbness of boring repetition and the thrill of revenge
the finding of friends and the gifts of lonely pursuits
the open discussions of inner most fears and the quiet reflections
on secrets closely held and never admitted.
But where does this leave me or is it carrying me
into the continuing maelstrom of this scattered and shattered existence
seeking a roost, a place of comfort amidst my refusals to accept it
along with my desires to fly past anything resembling a cage
into which a solace may be found but lost in this continuing turmoil
that I find so orgasmic in its chaos and juxtaposing energies
that to my properly addled mind offers a unity of life and death.
The two-headed angel speaks with a long and forked tongue
of the two-sided coin, the double entendre and the double-barreled gun
of the one-for-all and the all-for-one
becoming the one-as-all and the all-is-one
in the place where all roads lead to none
and the waning moon is the setting son.
So go fuck yourself and leave me alone
to find my own way past this overdue swoon
where the high-blooded hipster is bad-to-the-bone
and the struggling loser is a man-in-the-moon.